college!patrick corrupting you...you're study partners in your anthropology class and patrick loves to listen to you talk. loves to hear you explain concepts to him, pointing to your notes with your purple pen. scooting your chair closer to him.
"can you see now?" you show him the diagram you drew; it's labeled and highlighted and patrick smirks because you wrote his name in bubble letters on the top of the page.
your skin flushes. the broken air conditioning in your dorm made the early september heat unbearable enough. and now you're humiliated.
you cover it with your forearm but it's too late.
"what's all this?" patrick moves your arm easily. his finger traces over the P in 'patrick', adorned with a little heart.
you look up at him and shake your head. "we need to focus. it's nothing--i was bored in class."
patrick moves wherever your gaze is directed. he doesn't let you escape him. the small wooden chair he's sitting in skips and screeches across the linoleum floors, his knee bumping against yours so it sits snug between your legs.
"do you have a crush on me?" patrick asks. he's so confident, because he knows the answer already, and he could've guessed long before that too. not that you were overt before this--it's just the kind of person he is. attractive in its rawest form.
you do have a crush on him. but you're a virgin. you've never even kissed or been kissed.
"i guess a little." you say, softly.
your voice is low; patrick has to lean in to hear you. but his eyes look kind, a twinkly dark green. and he smiles at you; it's a grin that crinkles his eyes like soft tissue paper.
"is that bad?" you ask, uncomfortable from the lingering silence.
"no." he says it immediately. "have you ever made out before?" patrick adds. he says it like he's been waiting for it and you shake your head.
"fuck."
"sorry." you shrug.
patrick now shakes his own head. "what if i taught you? would that be okay?"
you're embarrassed that a boy this well-known will feel the struggle of your lips against his own experienced ones. he probably kisses like a well-oiled machine, pulling sweet moans out of girls like strawberry taffy and here you are, gulping. literally swallowing your own pride as you say yes please. as if you're ordering at a restaurant.
patrick moves to your bed and you sit next to him. you don't know what to do or where to look so you focus on your socks, how one is pulled taut, the other slouching against your ankle. and then patrick tilts your face towards his.
his breath smells good. peppermint and camel lights, you suppose. his lips are parted and so close to yours and you're about to lose your balance. your open palms grab onto patrick's thighs, just above his knees. he looks down and smirks. and then he tilts your chin up and plants a kiss on your lips. just one kiss. but his lips are wet and he prolongs the sound of them puckered over yours.
you feel a pit in your stomach. but it's a good feeling, a pit that reminds you of being on the beach and wanting to dig into the sand more and more until it collapses in on itself.
you close the gap this time, feeling his shoulders. they're so firm and broad under his white t-shirt. he opens his mouth wider. experiments with you. you inch closer to him and then you're pulled into his lap and his arm supports your back, his hand holding your chin in place while he licks into your mouth, prying it open with his tongue. he moans in approval when you start to move in sync with him; his lips wrap around your bottom lip while yours find their home on his top one--and he is being patient.
he's getting hard--really hard--but he takes it slow with you. this is just kissing. so he doesn't move you against his erection but you feel it and pride swells in your chest because your crush is kissing you and it feels so good.
it gets sloppier; his spit is melding with your own and as he pulls away to look at you, a string of it prolongs the kiss--but you don't let him pull away. you whine and pull him in by his collar. adjust yourself on his lap and he pulls you closer. impossibly closer.
he kisses you like he wants to eat you alive. your lip is bitten and raw and swollen from him and you mewl and moan when he gently pulls your hair. you pull his back and now he moans, just for you.
the sand pit in your stomach becomes a sinkhole and you feel a tingling sensation you've never felt before.
"this feels so good." you say, bluntly. your hair is a mess, and patrick's forehead is dewy with sweat.
"oh my god." patrick dives back into you at full force. your teeth almost clash, and you tug at the bottom of his shirt, feeling the tightness of his abs underneath and then he's pulling it over his head and even the one and a half seconds without his lips on yours feels like fucking torture for both of you.
your mouths stay open against each other, like even the widest they could go could never let each other in enough.
patrick starts to slip the strap of your tank top down your shoulder when your roommate comes in. you look at her wide-eyed, wiping patrick's spit off your face. he breathes heavily, leaning back on his elbows. sheer pink lip gloss pants his stubbled cheeks with iridescence.
he covers his erection with his t-shirt.
